


Please Come Home for Christmas

by BeccaAnne814



Series: Christmas/New Year’s Stories [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Death, F/M, Fluff, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeccaAnne814/pseuds/BeccaAnne814
Summary: You were injured in the last mission, so the team left you at the compound while they went to take care of a Hydra threat. They've been gone a week and you're not sure if Bucky's going to make it home to spend his first Christmas with you. Based off of Kelly Clarkson's songlease Come Home for Christmas.





	Please Come Home for Christmas

_Bells will be ringing the glad, glad news_

_Oh what a Christmas to have the blues_

_My baby's gone I have no friends_

_To wish me greetings once again_

You were still silently cursing the Hydra agent that got the drop on you during your last mission.  He had snuck up behind you while you were watching Bucky's back and you ended up with a knife buried in your thigh.  Without missing a beat, you'd pulled the knife free and repaid the favor, except you had aimed for the heart.  Bucky had immediately picked you up and had taken you back to the Quinjet, but the damage was done, you were out of commission for the next few weeks. 

That's why you were sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket staring at a beautiful Christmas tree, the lights blurring softly through the tears you were trying hard not to shed.  The team had left a week ago to infiltrate a Hydra facility Coulson had discovered and you weren't sure when they would be coming back.  They'd been radio silent since they had arrived and the solitude was killing you.  You normally didn't mind being alone, but it was Christmas, your first Christmas with Bucky.  

It had taken you months to get him to trust you, and then even longer to convince him that he wouldn't hurt you.  Once he'd finally given in to his feelings for you, he'd turned into a hopeless romantic.  You had finally gotten the chance to see him how Steve did, his kind, loving spirit overshadowing all of the horrors Hydra had forced upon him.  

The two of you had made so many plans for this first Christmas together.  It wasn't Bucky's first Christmas since he'd escaped Hydra, but it would have been the first one where he was surrounded by the people that loved him.  Now it looked as though all of those plans would come to naught.

 

_Choirs will be singing silent night_

_Those Christmas carols by candlelight_

_Please come home for Christmas_

_Please come home for Christmas_

_If not for Christmas by new year's night_

You had eventually turned on the TV, finding a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie to try to take your mind off of your loneliness, but every one of them just reminded you of the one you missed the most.  It might not have been as bad if one of the team had stayed behind with you, but that would have been selfish on your part.  You eventually turned off the TV and pulled up your Spotify Christmas playlist.  These were all of the songs that you'd been introducing Bucky to over the past few weeks.  He and Steve had missed out on so much during their time on ice.  Most of these songs were familiar to them, even if the artists were knew.  You lay back on the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around you as you silently prayed that they would return safely, if not tonight, then at least by New Years.

 

_Friends and relations send salutations_

_Just as sure as the stars shine above_

_This is Christmas, Christmas my dear_

_The time of year to be with the one that you love_

With Kelly Clarkson quietly singing Please Come Home for Christmas, you thought back over the past few days.  You'd spent hours Skyping with your friends and family back home.  They'd begged you to return to spend the holidays with them instead of staying at the compound by yourself.  You'd assured them that you'd be fine and that Bucky would make it home for Christmas.  Hope had been bright in your heart up until this evening.  It was hard to have hope as you watched the minutes ticking away on clock hanging above the fireplace.  Christmas Eve was quickly turning into Christmas Day and with each passing second, a small part of your Christmas spirit died.

 

_Then won't you tell me, you'll never more roam_

_Christmas and New Year will find you at home_

_There'll be no more sorrow, no grief or pain_

_Cause I'll be happy that it's Christmas once again._

 

You had eventually fallen asleep, and at least in your dreams you'd had the perfect Christmas.  You'd dreamt that Bucky had made it back and had spent the evening cuddled together in front of the fire, the tree shimmering softly in the background as the two of you listened to your favorite songs.  It was a magical evening, as only imagined in dreams, but at least for a brief moment, you could pretend that everything had been perfect.

You awoke from your dream, both happy and sad.  It had been a wonderful fantasy, but reality was soon settling in.  You lay on your side, your eyes still closed as you imagined that Bucky was curled up with you.  You took a deep breath, and noticed, for the first time, that something was off.  You carefully opened your eyes to see that you were no longer in the common room, but in your own bed, facing the windows.  Dawn was just beginning to break and you could see the softly falling snow as light started shining on the frozen crystals, making the world sparkle and glow.  

You felt a warmth behind you as an arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer to a familiar form.  A smile slowly spread across your face as you realized that all of your dreams had come true.  You would get to spend Christmas with the one you loved.


End file.
